Chapter 4 wake up

When Siddhartha left the living Buddha and the forest where Govinda lived, he felt that he left his previous life behind and broke up with it completely.He walked slowly, exhausting the feeling that filled his body and mind.He meditated, as if he had dived into a deep water, allowing himself to sink to the bottom of this feeling, to the root of the feeling, because he felt that thinking could recognize the root, and only in this way could the feeling rise to understanding, so as not to get lost , but grasp the essence, and start to radiate the inner brilliance. Siddhartha walked slowly while thinking.He found himself no longer a young boy, but a grown man.He felt that something had left him, like a snake shed its old skin, that something was no longer in him, and that was what had accompanied him throughout his youth and had always been his , That is the desire to learn from a teacher.The last teacher who appeared on his way, the noblest and wisest old man, the Living Buddha, had left him.He had to part ways with him and could no longer accept his teachings.

The thinker walked more slowly, asking himself as he walked: "What is it that you want to learn from the teacher by listening to the teaching? What is it that the person who has taught you so much cannot teach you?" What?" He thought, "That's the ego, and what I want to learn is the meaning and nature of the ego. What I want to get rid of and overcome is the ego. But I can't overcome it, I can only coax it, I can only avoid it , can only hide. Truly, there is only this self of all things that I have labored over, namely this mystery: I am alive, I am a human being, different from all others, I am Siddhartha! I know far more about everything in the world than about myself, than about Siddhartha!"

The slow-moving thinker stopped, lost in the thought, and from it sprang another thought, a new thought, and that was: "I know nothing about myself, I know nothing about myself. Siddhartha is very, strange, very unknown for one reason only: I am afraid of myself, I avoid myself! I seek Atman, I seek Brahman, I am willing to divide and strip myself, so that in the unknown Deep down to find the inner core of all flesh, that is to find Atman, to find life, to find divinity, to find the ultimate, and the ego is lost and lost.” Siddhartha opened his eyes, looked around, and a smile appeared on his face, a feeling of waking up from a long dream spread throughout his body, all the way to his toes.He took another step and ran quickly, like a man who knows what he is going to do.

"Oh," he thought, taking a deep breath, "now I don't let Siddhartha escape me! I no longer start my thinking and my life with Atman and worldly cares I don't want to kill and divide myself any more to discover a secret behind the wreckage. I don't want to study Yajur Veda anymore, I don't want to study Atharva Veda anymore, I don't want to be an ascetic, I don't want to believe in What theory. I want to learn from myself, to be a schoolboy, to know myself, to know the secret of Siddhartha." He looked around as if seeing the world for the first time.How beautiful the world is, how gorgeous the world is, how wonderful and charming the world is! There are blues, yellows, and greens here, the sky is flowing, the rivers are flowing, the forests are towering, and the mountains are towering, everything is very beautiful, Everything is very mysterious and incredible, and Siddhartha is in it, he is an awakening person, walking on the road to himself.All this, this yellow and blue, this river and the forest, entering Siddhartha through the eyes for the first time, is no longer the spell of Mara, no longer the veil of Maya, no longer the world of phenomena The multiplicity of meaning and chance is nothing to the Brahmin who despises multiplicity and seeks harmony.Blue is blue, and rivers are rivers. Even in Siddhartha's eyes, there is divinity hidden in blue and rivers, which is also the way and meaning of divinity.Here is yellow, here is blue, there is sky, there is forest, and Siddhartha is here.Content and essence are not somewhere behind things, but within things, in all things.

"How insensitive and dull I am!" thought the hurrying man, "if a man reads a text which contains exactly what he is looking for, he will not despise the symbols and letters and call them For delusion, chance, and worthless superficiality, but to read, study, and love word for word. And I, I want to read the book of the world, the book of my own essence, but to please a preconceived Meaning, despising symbols and letters, I call the world of phenomena an illusion, my eyes and my tongue accidental and worthless phenomena. No, this is past, I have awakened, I have indeed awakened, today It's just been born!"

Thinking of this, Siddhartha stopped suddenly again, as if a snake lay across the road in front of him. This is because he suddenly understands something: he is actually like an awakened or newborn who has to start his life from the beginning, completely from the beginning.When he left the Yettawana Forest Garden that morning, the Living Buddha's Forest Garden, he had already begun to wake up and was already on the road to himself, which was exactly his purpose.After years of penance, he felt it was natural and self-evident to go back to his hometown to visit his father.But now, at the moment when he stopped, as if a snake lay across his path, he realized again: "I am no longer what I was, no longer an ascetic, no longer a monk, I am no longer a Brahman. What can I do at home with my father? Study? Sacrifice?

Siddhartha stood motionless, his heart went cold, he felt it was very cold in his chest, like a small animal, like a bird or a rabbit, and he saw How lonely I am.For many years he had no home, wandered all over the world, and he didn't feel this way, but he felt it today.Even in previous meditations, he was still his father's son, a Brahmin, a noble, educated man.And now he is just Siddhartha, an awakened one, and nothing else.He took a deep breath and felt cold and shivering all over for a moment. No one was as lonely as him.There is no nobleman who does not belong to the nobles, and no artisan who does not belong to the artisans, and at the same time turns to them, shares their lives, speaks their language.There is no Brahmin who does not belong to all Brahmins and live with them.There is not an ascetic who does not have recourse to this class of recluses.Even the solitary hermit in the forest is not alone, he has appendages around him, he also belongs to a class, and that is his home.Govinda became a monk, and thousands of monks were his brothers, who wore his clothes, practiced his beliefs, and spoke his language.But where does he, Siddhartha, he belong? Whose life does he share? Whose language does he speak?

From that instant on, the world around him vanished.He stood there alone, like a star in the sky.From that moment on, Siddhartha had emerged from a cold and despondent feeling more of himself and more solid than before.This he felt was the last shiver of awakening, the last convulsions of new birth.He started walking again, hurriedly walking, no longer going home, no longer going to his father, no longer going back.